


Ode to Dwellings

by doctorsimmonswilson



Series: DOUSY - Canon Compliant Epilogue [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Homelessness, Oops, Past Relationships, and on dousy week of all weeks this became sorta daisy central, dousyweek, prompt: home, sooo here i am the biggest dousy fan you know one of them at least, still a dousy ending and he’s her everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorsimmonswilson/pseuds/doctorsimmonswilson
Summary: Happy endings are not something Daisy Johnson has ever believed could happen— at least to her.orDaisy’s journey towards finding home.
Relationships: Past Daisy/Lincoln - Relationship, Past Skye/Miles - Relationship, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Series: DOUSY - Canon Compliant Epilogue [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030596
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Ode to Dwellings

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends! dousy week day 3!
> 
> I just busted this out while I should’ve been working today...oops! Anyway, this was written in such a manner so that I could finally put something up for dousy week. Everyone has been doing such an incredible job in these past two days. The tag is FILLED! Gah. I love it. 
> 
> PS: Totally fits with ‘Your Heartbeat on the Highline(Once in Twenty Lifetimes’, my prized WIP with only one chapter left!! Catch up before I publish!! :)
> 
> Happy day, and as always: enjoy.

Mary Sue Poots, a disobedient and rambunctious girl of eleven-years-old was perched on the edge of her bed, picking at the fraying edges of her scratchy blanket. The girl could not be blamed for her rambunctiousness, as a girl of eleven with no home— which she was— is a girl who has no guidance. No one had taught Mary Sue Poots not to take things without asking or paying. Mary Sue learned that lesson earlier that evening, when the nuns at the orphanage scolded her; Mary had thought they were frustrated to see her back. Though, unbeknownst to the homeless girl, the nuns were more upset for her than at her. _Poor girl can’t seem to stay in one place_ , they’d whisper. _Every month she’s back before we ship her off somewhere else._

Mary Sue was very aware of her affliction, and she too wondered: why was she always being sent back? Surely a small crime is not reason to abandon a child who’s never been taught that shoplifting is in fact, criminal. But the more Mary Sue pondered, the more her mind wandered to why she was in this situation at all. Had her own parents died? Had they left her at the steps of the orphanage; perhaps they were struggling to even feed and clothe themselves. Maybe they just didn’t love her enough. It was enough to make a grown adult's head spin. So Mary Sue Poots, a girl of eleven with no home repeated her cycle. New home, misbehave, sent back to the orphanage, new home. At some point, she stopped considering her foster families’ houses her home. They were simply her place of residence. For a small while, anyway. 

Skye, a woman of twenty-three, lived in her van. It was a stolen van, painted an awful red color, and it smelt of rotted meat. But it was Skye’s  
home. She had never known anywhere else to be home, and she supposed the van fit her needs perfectly. Her boyfriend, a man five years her senior, lived far away from where she was parked, so she was on her own; she had no family, and her friends were the misfits like herself who scoured the internet looking to reveal the terrible secrets of golden people. She liked it that way. But Skye’s own terrible secrets did not delude her. She was selfish and horrible, she knew. Skye did not care much. Miles, her boyfriend, did not care. He likes how ferociously she sought after the information she wanted. Skye knew he overestimated her ambition. She was not ambitious. Skye only wanted one thing, but it was not caused by a cunning nature; it was caused by a life without a home. 

Daisy Johnson felt quite old at only twenty seven. She had perhaps lived seventeen lifetimes by said age, and was entirely too tired for her own good. Still, the woman had not found her permanent dwelling. She toyed with the idea of home being a person, rather than a physical place, but then Lincoln, the love of her life, had died. Well, Daisy thought Lincoln could've been the love of her life. She certainly loved him. She hadn’t felt such a romantic ferocity for anyone else. And he loved her too. It seemed only natural that he was the love of her life. 

Daisy thought you maybe only got one great love. She had had other lovers, but none quite as grand. None quite as— well, passionate. Lincoln and Daisy had been passionate in both their devotion to each other, and their devotion to their personal desires. They had clashed often, contested because they were too proud, too stubborn, and too polarized. Daisy had loved Lincoln, but he had died. He was not perfect, and Daisy didn’t believe in prince charming, but he suited her most of the time, and she loved him with all she had. And then he died for her. Daisy was beginning to believe that happy endings were not real. Happy endings could never be happy, as they were ‘the end’. 

Daisy Johnson bought her first real apartment with Daniel Sousa when she was thirty-two. At thirty-seven, a house. 

“Daniel,” she calls, waving her husband over to her. Daniel Sousa, a man four years older than Daisy— but in some ways much, much older than most people alive— lightly jogged to his wife. He carried a small boy of three, who he held tightly, protectively. “You should take him to the car. Grab Felicity’s bag?” 

“Sure,” Daniel bends down slightly to pick up the bright blue backpack belonging to their daughter. “Tell her to give them hell for me?” Daniel gives her a grin, hoisting the boy up on his front. Daisy smiles at the small face that resembles a mix of Daniel’s and her own. The small head of hair that was a lighter brown like hers, but displaying Daniel’s delicious and unruly curls. 

“She’s five, the game is over in two minutes, and they’re up 5-0. They gave the whatevers hell, Danny.” She rolls her eyes, kissing her son’s cheek, then her husband’s lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles, small soccer bag over one shoulder, and toddler in both arms. “See you in a few.” Daisy turns her attention back to the kindergarten soccer game as her head off towards their car. 

Sure enough, Felicity’s team comes out on top, and they do a huddle and a chant. Daisy grins as her daughter receives a bear hug from two friends, before they all run off to their parents. 

“Mommy! Look! I got a medal!” Felicity grins with her missing-front-tooth smile, and holds the medal around her neck up to her mother.

“Wow,” Daisy wraps her arms around her daughter, “great job, kiddo.”

“Did you see me score a goal?” Felicity grins. 

“I did. Daddy and I were cheering super loudly. But he had to take your brother to the car a minute ago; he was sleepy,” Daisy tickles the girl’s belly. She lets out a delighted giggle. 

“Mommy, I’m tired.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s go home,” Daisy scoops her daughter into her arms, hugging her tightly. She sets off towards the car.

**Author's Note:**

> I love when you leave comments! It helps  
> me a lot! And makes me happy:)
> 
> (PS: their boy’s name not being mentioned? saving it for the Heartbeart finale, folks).


End file.
